


All The Things We Should Have Said

by 13Kat13



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Angst, Bottom Yuri Plisetsky, Daddy Kink, Happy Ending, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Russian Mafia, Stripper!Yuri, Top Otabek Altin, and then it's all fluff and rainbows, are you proud of me mother?, businessman!Otabek, but don't worry, gangster!Otabek, gangster!Yuri, not as big as the mafia I don't think, not really - Freeform, otayuri - Freeform, sort of, step on me Otabek Altin you zesty little tuna roll
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-14 04:33:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11200521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/13Kat13/pseuds/13Kat13
Summary: “See I like the bad boys,” Yuri went on, leaning close to whisper in Otabek’s ear, his hair tickling Otabek’s cheek. “And I used to have the baddest of the bad. Constantly bruised knuckles from protecting me, plasters littering his face. He was… delicious.”Otabek Altin is a businessman with a dark past. A past that saunters back into his life wearing pleather.





	All The Things We Should Have Said

**Author's Note:**

> This is a filthy little oneshot that will probably have more parts added to it.
> 
> Inspired by iamatrashfan's amazing art on Tumblr and that scene from Preacher with the iguana. Lol that makes no sense if you haven't seen Preacher.
> 
> LOOK at the masterpiece that is iamatrashfan's art (I have no idea how to insert a hyperlink here ffs): https://iamatrashfan.tumblr.com/post/161737840743/ummm-gangster-au-ahhahaha-idk-i-just-wanna-draw?is_highlighted_post=1
> 
> LISTEN TO KONOBA'S 'ON OUR KNEES' FT R.O. BEFORE OR DURING READING (link in the fic). I mean you don't have to but it'll really set the mood, ya know? Kay I'll shut up now, bye.

“No way in hell.”

 

The music was blaring. Otabek teetered pleasantly on the edge of tipsy; a lovely head space which made everything that little bit more relaxed without him being a drunken fool. His penthouse apartment was a bit of a mess compared to its usually pristine state; empty bottles of beer and wine littering the expensive, glass coffee table in front of him. Party streamers on the floor, jackets flung over the couch he sat on. At his back, a floor to ceiling window offered a view of the city — encrusted with pinpricks of light from its many buildings, challenging the starry night sky in its brilliance.

 

And his friends. His friends were gathered around him. Being dicks.

 

“C’moooon, Beka,” Alexei whined, slinging an arm around Otabek’s neck and nearly sloshing champagne down him. “He’s _really_ pretty.”

 

The argument had been going on for three minutes now, ever since Serik slunk out to take a phone call and returned looking suspiciously pleased with himself. His friends now all had equally delighted expressions where they sat lounged around on Otabek’s L shaped couch. It was nine against one, and Otabek felt that it was particularly unfair.

 

“Alexei, you’re straight,” Otabek pointed out, cocking an eyebrow at his best friend. “How would you know if he’s pretty?”

 

“Because I have fucking _eyes_ , Beka,” Alexei huffed, rolling them as he spoke.

 

“He is cute, Beks,” Zarina piped up from where she sat on the other end of the couch, flicking her dark hair over her shoulder.

 

“I don’t care, I’m not having a stripper give me a lap dance,” Otabek snapped.

 

There was an uproar of protests from his friends at his words.

 

“But we _paid_ for him already!”

 

“It’s your birthday!”

 

“Seriously, Beka, his _legs_ …”

 

Otabek slammed his beer down on the coffee table perhaps a little too hard, making his friends wince.

 

“Alright!” he snapped, making them all burst into identical evil grins. “I’ll have the fucking lap dance. But I swear, next birthday I’m flying out to Switzerland and none of you fuckers will see me for a month.”

 

There was an outburst of whoops and cheering as a few of them leaned over to slap him on the back, Alexei nearly sending him tumbling onto the floor.

 

“You have him for an hour,” Zarina said, suddenly all business as she got to her feet. “No touching allowed and you have to be _nice_ , Beka.”

 

“I’m always nice,” Otabek retorted, making Alexei snort as he too got up along with everyone else.

 

“Wait,” Otabek cut in, looking around at them all as they started grabbing their coats and bags. “Where are you all going?”

 

“We,” said Natalie, applying an extra layer to her lipgloss as she spoke, “are going to leave you to it.”

 

The blonde winked and blew a kiss at him from her freshly glossed lips.

 

“Whyyyyy?” Otabek whined, tripping after them all as they made their way towards the hall.

 

“Because,” — Ravil this time, flashing him a smile as he smoothed back his brunette bangs — “we think you should have some alone time with the lovely boy without worrying about your friends in the other room. Come join us after your dance, we’ll be at Silver.”

 

“I hate Silver,” Otabek muttered, before grunting in surprise as Alexei and Ravil grabbed him. “What the fuck?”

 

“Come on, Beka,” Alexei trilled, looking delighted as he dragged Otabek down the hall towards his bedroom. “You can’t keep the man waiting.”

 

“You fuckers!” Otabek yelled, resisting them the whole way. “This is beyond creepy!”

 

“Yeah, Beka,” Ravil laughed as though he hadn’t spoken, reaching for the door handle to Otabek’s bedroom. “it would be rude to keep someone so pretty waiting.”

 

And with that they opened the door, shoved him through it, and slammed it behind him. Otabek span to face the door, ready to storm back out into the hallway and kick their laughing arses.

 

_CRACK!_

 

Otabek froze as the little bang of a party popper snapped from behind him, covering him in multicolour streamers.

 

“Happy birthday…” a silky, wonderful, awfully familiar voice said from behind him.

 

Otabek went stiff. _‘No,’_ he thought to himself, incredulous. _‘It_ can’t _be…’_

 

He turned.

 

Slender legs were clad in pleather leggings, a pair of platform heel biker boots accentuating their already very generous length, hip cocked to the side. A deliciously slim waist was only just, teasingly visible through a sheer, black blouse, oversized so it fell off one pale shoulder. Over the other shoulder a wave of long, blonde hair was swept, catching gold in the low, honey light of the room. The usual amount of jewellery adorned him; a choker at the neck, rings on the fingers, stud in his eyebrow. Otabek saw with a painfully sharp ache that one of the bracelets had a very familiar little cat charm dangling off it. His friends couldn't have had any idea.

 

“It’s been a long time,” were the words that Yuri Plisetsky chose to say to him after three years.

 

Otabek was tongue tied, frozen under the gaze of those cold, green eyes. The eyes he’d once complimented in a way that sent them both ricocheting down six years of blood, sex, laughter, death, and _love_ , so much love. The sort of love that burns cities to the ground, devastates empires and tears families apart.

 

But three years later, standing in Otabek's bedroom, Yuri turned away from him. And Otabek let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, suddenly able to move without those eyes upon him.

 

“So this is a nice place,” Yuri hummed as he sauntered over to the bottle of champagne left out on the bedside table, presumably by Otabek’s friends.

 

His voice was just as it had always been; dangerously seductive, wildly enticing. It went well with both the firecracker of a boy and now the pipe bomb of a man. Asking for trouble, inviting insanity.

 

“Yura…” Otabek breathed, his name like a prayer on lips that hadn’t visited the altar in far, _far_ too long.

 

Otabek thought he saw Yuri’s shoulders hunch slightly at the sound of it, but then it was gone, Yuri popping the bottle of champagne with well practiced ease.

 

“That is still my name, yes,” Yuri said, his back to Otabek as he poured out two fizzing glasses. “But I wonder if you still wear yours?”

 

He turned, and Otabek was again caught in the green fire of that gaze.

 

“What do you mean?” Otabek dared to ask, still having not moved away from the door. “My name’s still the same.”

 

“Hmm…” Yuri hummed, his gaze flicking off to the side as though considering the matter. “Is it though.”

 

The question didn’t even sound like one, more a statement, meant to cut. Otabek blinked.

 

Yuri seemed tired of looking at him, and Otabek was grateful. Meeting Yuri’s gaze was like playing a fencing match, except the opponent’s sword was real and there were six of them, whilst yours was still a flimsy play thing.

 

The blonde slithered gracefully down to sit on the bed, releasing a sigh as he threw one long leg over the other. Otabek couldn’t stop staring.

 

“So do you want your lap dance or not?” Yuri asked, taking one of the glasses of champagne between his slender fingers. “Your _friends_ did pay for me after all. For the next hour… I’m yours…”

 

Those six green swords were back on Otabek again, raking over him, challenging his gaze. Yuri’s words were not meant to be flirting. They were meant as an insult.

 

“Yura, I —”

 

“See I heard that you like to help people _talk_ now,” Yuri cut across him, getting swiftly to his feet and taking the breath straight from Otabek’s lungs. “Not in the way you used to of course, now there’s a lot less squealing and broken bones, a little more tissue boxes and tears.”

 

Yuri slotted his phone into a set of speakers he must’ve bought with him and pressed play on the [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dWnG3t_R8Gg). An unexpectedly gentle, melancholy voice filtered out into the room. Not exactly the sort of song for a lapdance. Otabek’s brow furrowed in confusion.

 

Yuri turned and stalked towards him, hips rolling in a way that had always made Otabek so damn sure he himself was destined for hell. His breathing was quick, fists clenched under the onslaught of Yuri’s gaze.

 

“I heard that Mr Big-Business-Man has a philanthropic side to him,” Yuri purred as he reached Otabek, tilting his chin up suggestively and smirking at him. But his eyes were cold. “I heard Mr Big-Business-Man is all charity these days, that even though he inherited a fuck-load of money and has turned it into millions he still likes to give back to the community, help those poor LGBT kids by setting up a charity to give them counsellors. You know, the ones that are just so fucking _damaged_ by it all, shitty parents, religious guilt. I wonder how many of them were beaten so badly by their step father that they were in the hospital for a week? I wonder if my bruises were your inspiration?”

 

Yuri grabbed him by the collar of his crisp white shirt, made Otabek gasp in surprise as he turned and dragged him towards the bed. Otabek was swung around and thrown down to sit on the foot of the bed. He gazed up at the fierce boy become man above him.

 

“Yura —”

 

“See I need to talk,” Yuri interrupted him again, his hands on those wonderfully slender hips, the music still too eerily beautiful for the situation. “I’m a poor LGBT kid with a problem to get off my chest.”

 

It was at that point that the music changed. The bass dropped at the same time as Yuri did, landing on Otabek’s lap, those stunning thighs straddling Otabek’s own. And he _rolled_ his hips against Otabek’s, eliciting a gasp from the elder at the touch as Yuri matched his body to the rhythm of the song.

 

_“Feel it in your bones_

_The need for something more_

_The more and more you wait_

_It's buuuuuurning yooou.”_

 

Fucked. Otabek was fucked. Yuri had always been far too good at this.

 

“See I like the bad boys,” Yuri went on, leaning close to whisper in Otabek’s ear, his hair tickling Otabek’s cheek. “And I used to have the baddest of the bad. Constantly bruised knuckles from protecting me, plasters littering his face. He was… _delicious_.”

 

Yuri let his bottom lip brush over the shell of Otabek’s ear with the last word, and Otabek had to stop the convulsions that almost gripped his body with the sensation. Then Yuri was gone, Otabek’s breath catching with the sudden movement of Yuri getting to his feet. He stared helplessly up at him.

 

“I mean there was this one time,” Yuri went on, his hips still moving to the music, slow, swaying, hypnotising. “We had to bring in an illegal export of some exotic reptiles to a buyer. Took us months to track them all down. Big job, big money.”

 

Yuri turned, spinning elegantly on his heel so he was facing away.

 

“And we finally get to the guy,” Yuri said, voice neutral as he dipped down, hands coming back to slide down Otabek’s calves as he dropped, his hair still swept over to the side to offer a perfect view of his long, elegant neck and that one creamy shoulder. “And our buyer can’t stop checking me out. Real idiot, like most men.”

 

Yuri stood back up, body rolling with the movement and making Otabek blink a few times. His head was starting to feel foggy. He was torn between arousal, shock, and pain. The surprise of seeing Yuri again was still freezing him up, and the way the blonde’s anger was so vivid as it simmered just below the surface cut into him. But there was also that body, that face, that voice, just _Yuri_ , everything about him made heat shoot up Otabek’s veins. God, he’d missed him.

 

“And my boyfriend,” Yuri continued, turning back around, hips going back to that intoxicating sway. “He doesn’t like that.”

 

Yuri reached out and placed a hand on Otabek’s shoulder, the touch burning him just like all the others.

 

“He turns to the buyer and he says,” Yuri regaled, body rolling ever so slightly as he let Otabek feel the full effect of his gaze. ““If you don’t stop checking out my man’s ass, then I’m going to beat you over the head with this baseball bat.””

 

Yuri sunk back down onto Otabek’s lap, and maybe Otabek was stupid or maybe he was crazy, but his hands automatically came up to rest on Yuri’s thighs. Something flickered in Yuri’s eyes at that, and Otabek briefly thought he might end up relearning just what it felt like to be pierced by those six green swords. But then it passed, and Yuri was dancing again, hips rolling slowly in Otabek’s lap, not quite touching him, only hinting.

 

“And this buyer guy must be even more of an idiot than I’d originally thought,” Yuri continued, arms resting loosely on Otabek’s shoulders. “Because he turns round and says “well if your man didn’t wrap it up in those tiny little shorts, I might believe that he doesn’t want me to look”... you know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone get knocked out so quickly.”

 

Yuri laughed, his gaze drifting off, focus still in the past as he relived it. He’d stopped rolling his hips, body frozen over Otabek. Then his eyes snapped back to the elder, sharp, unforgiving.

 

“And here’s where we get to my problem,” Yuri said, that voice of his dripping with anger. “My bad boy won’t admit just how bad he is. He’s still trying to pretend like he gives a shit. He’s still setting up charities and going to business deals and acting like everything’s hey okay, after I found the guy we’d been looking for, after I found the guy who killed Georgi and I had to go and handle him _By. My. Self._ Because three years ago he told me to live and let live, he told me to _forgive_ _and forget_.”

 

Yuri spat the words, and there were tears in his eyes now, pain sharpening the anger into something truly deadly.

 

“And he turned his back on me. He wouldn’t help take that fucker’s limbs off. Like he’s so _good_.”

 

The music stopped, right as Yuri finished his story, and they were left staring at each other. Yuri blinked, and suddenly the tears were gone, and a smile was on his face. Yuri had always had a way of making his face go pretty as a doll. Terrifying, dead behind the eyes. This was the smile he turned on Otabek as he asked, “so… you think you can get a counsellor to help me?”

 

“Yura, I —”

 

“Stop _calling_ me that,” Yuri hissed, springing to his feet as though he suddenly couldn’t stand the touch of Otabek’s hands on him.

 

He turned and went to snatch a pack of cigarettes he’d apparently left on Otabek’s chest of drawers. He lit one with his back to Otabek, shaky breath drawing in to catch the first flame. Then he turned.

 

“You _left_ me,” Yuri hissed, and there was so much pain in that sentence that it cracked something just below Otabek’s ribs.

 

“I asked you to come with me,” Otabek returned, voice weary, knowing he wasn't going to win this fight. “I wanted you to come with me.”

 

“How could I come with you?” Yuri bit out, one arm crooked at the elbow to hold his cigarette, the other wrapped around his middle to hold himself. “I found Denny, I found the fucker who killed Georgi and I still had my deal with Victor.”

 

Otabek sighed, he didn’t want to fight. But he also didn’t want Yuri to leave. Even when the younger man was hurling angry words at him, it was still the most wonderful thing to be in his presence. Awful, heartbreaking and painful, yes. But wonderful.

 

“Victor would have let you out of that deal,” Otabek repeated himself, three years after the first time he said it. “He loves you like a brother, hell he’d have been happy to see you get out. You stayed because of Denny. Because you couldn’t let go.”

 

“Of course I couldn’t let go!” And Yuri’s voice was bordering on a shriek, his hand shaking where it held his cigarette. He’d not taken another puff of it since lighting the thing. “Denny fucking cut Georgi’s _head_ off! His fucking head!”

 

“I know,” Otabek murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he leaned his elbows heavily on his knees, eyes on his shoes. “That’s why I had to leave when I inherited the money. I couldn’t see more of my friends die.”

 

Yuri scoffed. He turned on his heel and started pacing, an angry stalk that took him back and forth in front of Otabek. Even in his rage he was graceful, a frantic melody made for passion.

 

“Yura, I don’t want to fight,” Otabek sighed, bringing a hand up to rub at his tired eyes.

 

“Then what do you want, Beka? Hmm?” Yuri asked, rounding on him.

 

It was the first time he used Otabek’s name, still shortening it like he used to do. The cracks beneath Otabek's ribs widened. He looked up.

 

“What I’ve always wanted,” he said, meeting Yuri’s terrifying gaze head on. “You.”

 

There was the flicker again. It was the slight lowering of those six green swords, the hesitation. But then they were back up, sharp tips pointed at Otabek.

 

“Then you should have stayed,” Yuri spat, stalking over to where he’d left his glass of champagne on the side table and throwing his cigarette into it.

 

He kept his back to Otabek, breathing heavily. Otabek got to his feet. He saw Yuri stiffen at the sound of his approach, saw the slight shake in Yuri’s hands. He came to a stop just behind Yuri, bodies so close that he could feel the heat radiating off Yuri’s.

 

“I’ve missed you,” Otabek whispered, his words a sigh that whispered over the exposed skin of Yuri’s neck. The blonde shivered. “I’ve missed you so much.”

 

There was a beat, and Otabek thought that maybe Yuri’s resolve was wavering. And then —

 

“Why?” The question was watery, clearly said through tears but still angry. “Why would you miss me when it was so easy for you to leave in the first place?”

 

“Yura,” Otabek sighed.

 

Very gently, he took Yuri’s shoulders and turned him around. Surprisingly, Yuri didn’t resist. He met Otabek’s gaze head on, refusing to be ashamed of the tears in his eyes. Otabek’s heart swelled at that. Yuri was still the courageous boy he’d fallen in love with.

 

“It wasn’t easy,” Otabek murmured, hands resting cautiously on Yuri’s elbows. “I so nearly didn’t. Even months, years later, I considered tearing down my whole company just to get back to you… I still do.”

 

“Don’t lie to me.”

 

It was probably meant to be a threat, hissed at Otabek, but instead it just came out as a broken plea. Otabek stared into Yuri’s eyes, willing the younger man to understand that he was telling the truth.

 

“I’m not,” Otabek told him. “Seeing you again like this… it’s making it even harder. Honestly if you asked me to come with you right now... I don’t know if I’d be able to refuse, I…”

 

He trailed off. Something shifted in Yuri’s expression, perhaps the beginnings of belief, of hope.

 

“I still love you so much,” Otabek confessed, voice cracking as he bared his heart. “You still have the power to hurt me so badly, I don’t think I can watch you leave again, Yuri.”

 

“I didn’t —”

 

“You did,” Otabek cut him off, firm now, needing him to understand. “Please see that. When you refused to come with me, you also turned your back on us. I might have been the one to walk away from our old life, but you were the one that sacrificed us in the process. All because I wouldn’t kill Denny with you.”

 

Otabek expected another tirade at his words, but it never came, Yuri just staring at him, wavering on the edge of something.

 

“ _Please_ , Yura,” Otabek begged, giving Yuri’s elbows a gentle squeeze. “I need you.”

 

And Yuri broke.

 

“Beka...” he sobbed, shoulders curling in as he collapsed against Otabek’s chest. “Beka…”

 

“Shhh… Yura,” Otabek soothed, finally holding him again, cupping his hand over the back of Yuri’s head, rocking him slowly as he wrapped his arms around him. “Shh… I’ve got you.”

 

“I thought you’d do anything for me,” Yuri sobbed, face buried in Otabek’s neck, his chest hitching as he struggled to draw breath. “You used to say you’d do anything for me.”

 

“I know, kitten, I know,” Otabek murmured, stroking Yuri’s hair. “I just sort of… broke. Georgi was bad, but you know I was barely keeping it together after Anna. I needed an out. She hurt too much.”

 

Yuri’s sobs died down to something more manageable before he spoke again.

 

“I know,” Yuri allowed, his voice a whisper as he remembered Otabek’s cousin, practically a sister to him, her body left out for them to find in the driveway.

 

“You were the only thing holding me together, Yura,” Otabek went on, gripping the man tightly in his arms. “But there’s whole patches that I don’t even remember from those last few months after Anna, before Georgi. I just sort of blacked out. I think it would’ve killed me if I’d stayed.”

 

Yuri just sniffled and nodded in reply.

 

They stood in silence for a while, basking in each others presence. Yuri was silent now, his breathing mostly returned to normal and the collar of Otabek’s shirt damp from his tears.

 

When he thought it was safe, Otabek went to hold Yuri out. Yuri ducked his head as Otabek pulled back to see his face, hands holding Yuri’s slender upper arms.

 

“Oh God, don’t look at my face,” Yuri laughed, his voice still a little wet and shaky as his hair swung forward to hide him. “It’s a mess. This is not how I wanted to be looking when I saw you again.”

 

“I don’t care,” Otabek said, brushing Yuri’s hair back and making the younger look up.

 

Yuri’s eyes looked extra green with the tears and red edges. His lips were swollen and puffy, nose pink and chest a little blotchy. He looked stunning. Genuinely, Yuri Plisetsky was a very pretty crier.

 

“Beautiful,” Otabek sighed, his hand trailing down from Yuri’s hair to cup his jaw.

 

“If you say so,” Yuri laughed, genuinely this time. The sound was wonderful.

 

Yuri stepped back to rub at his face.

 

“I’m, uh, going to go sort myself out,” Yuri mumbled, throwing a quick glance up at Otabek before he dodged past him and hurried into Otabek’s en suite.

 

Otabek heard the tap turn on a moment later and the sound of Yuri splashing his face. He eased himself down to sit on the bed, disbelief and happiness warring inside him. Yuri was here. Yuri seemed to have forgiven him. Yuri was _here_.

 

The changes had happened so swiftly Otabek was still reeling from them. First no Yuri, then Yuri in his bedroom. First angry Yuri, then Yuri crying in his arms. And now it seemed like he might even have happy Yuri. It was a lot to take in.

 

The tap shut off and a moment later Yuri came out of the bathroom, lips still swollen and eyes a little red but looking calmer. He gave Otabek a shy smile.

 

“Hi,” he said, voice soft as he came to a stop several feet away.

 

“Hi,” Otabek returned, getting to his feet to close the distance between them.

 

Yuri sighed as Otabek reached out to him, relaxed under his touch as the elder smoothed his hands over Yuri’s shoulders and down his arms. Yuri blinked around at the room, apparently only just taking it in properly. He gazed at the floor to ceiling window that stretched over the opposite wall, the city lights winking back at him.

 

“This place really _is_ nice,” Yuri stressed, repeating his earlier sentiment without any of the bite. “I like it, Beka.”

 

Oh his name on that tongue. How good it was to worship Yuri Plisetsky, to stand in his presence.

 

“Thank you,” Otabek returned, the conversation overly polite for ones such as themselves. For lovers such as themselves.

 

Yuri finally looked back at him. His eyes were so soft now, swords lowered and pure emotion leaking through.

 

“And it’s also nice to see you,” Yuri said, a smile slipping onto his lips, uncurling itself from the corner and dancing across his face. “Very nice.”

 

“Yuri, you have no idea how mutual the feeling is,” Otabek returned, his own smile hitching in response.

 

Yuri laughed. It was music.

 

“Kiss me,” Yuri sighed, his mouth still wearing its smile as that wonderful, beautiful request slipped from him.

 

“For as long as you’ll let me,” Otabek replied.

 

And sank against his lips.

 

It was bliss. Yuri unfurled under his mouth, his body relaxing as he sagged forward against Otabek, hands curled between their chests. Otabek’s own hands came up to cup Yuri’s jaw, angling his face up so his mouth fell open, inviting Otabek in. Yuri let out a little moan, kitten small as Otabek’s tongue slipped up against his. Otabek shifted his hands to Yuri’s hair, dragged his fingers through those gorgeous locks, tangled them in it. Yuri whimpered at the sensation. He tasted of expensive cigarettes and peppermint tea.

 

“Yura…” Otabek sighed, voice pitched low in a way that always made Yuri crumble.

 

And crumble he did, baring his neck to Otabek in utter surrender, body trembling in anticipation. Otabek leant to kiss it.

 

Yuri let out the most delicious sounds as Otabek kissed his way down that creamy column of skin, sucked on his fluttering pulse, bit down on the skin there.

 

“Beka…” Yuri whined, voice high and reedy. “Beka, please…”

 

“Anything, kitten,” Otabek promised, moving back to see Yuri’s face, gently gripping a handful of his hair at the base of his neck to hold him in place. “Anything at all.”

 

The sight of Yuri’s face almost made his knees buckle. The blonde was panting, jaw slack and his kiss pinked lips slightly open. His eyelids were heavy, pupils unfocused and blown wide behind them.

 

“Fuck…” Otabek hissed, fighting the urge to slam Yuri against the nearest wall. He knew Yuri would enjoy that, but he was trying to be slow here. Trying to ease them back into it.

 

“Beka, I…” Yuri began, blinking to try and clear the haze from his eyes. “Beka, I _need_ you.”

 

Otabek couldn't help the little moan that tore itself from him. He reached down and took Yuri’s ass into his hands. Yuri got the idea and jumped up to wrap his legs around Otabek’s waist, kissing him fiercely as Otabek turned and carried him the few steps to the bed. Once there he climbed onto the mattress, laying Yuri down on it and settling over him.

 

“I always loved it when you did that,” Yuri purred, smiling up at him from the cage of Otabek's arms, his hands going to stroke along the muscles of Otabek’s shoulders and biceps. “My strong bad boy.”

 

Otabek hummed in response and leant down to kiss Yuri breathless.

 

“Do you remember what you used to call me?” Otabek asked, the question poured into Yuri’s mouth. “When you were so ridiculously turned on, or simply because you wanted to rile me up?”

 

Yuri shuddered at the memory before his mouth split into a grin.

 

“How could I forget… Daddy?”

 

Otabek let out a noise that was almost a growl. He smashed their mouths together, making Yuri keen in pleasure. Then he was kissing his way down Yuri’s jaw, neck, chest, nearly ripping off the buttons of that ridiculous blouse in his haste to get it open. Yuri gasped as Otabek attacked the exposed skin, sucking on a rib, nipping at a hipbone.

 

Otabek wasted no time ridding Yuri of his boots, socks and leggings, beautiful long legs falling bare onto the mattress on either side of Otabek. Otabek took a moment then, slowed to admire his work; Yuri, half naked and aroused to the point of gasping breaths. Of course he was wearing lacy underwear, Otabek would expect nothing less from the man.

 

They were black, like everything else in Yuri’s outfit, translucent material stretched over his arousal. Otabek hummed, tilting his head to the side as he let one long finger drag over the bulge in Yuri’s panties. Yuri whimpered.

 

“Daddy…” Yuri begged, fixing Otabek with a perfectly wrecked look. “Don’t tease.”

 

“Hmm…” Otabek hummed, his face carefully neutral as he dragged Yuri’s panties off, knowing that it drove Yuri mad when he stayed in control like this. Right up to the last second.

 

Yuri bit his lip as he was exposed, burying his hands in the pillow to stop himself from reaching down and touching himself.

 

“You are being very good, kitten,” Otabek allowed, his voice measured as he tossed the panties to the side and popped another button on his shirt. Yuri’s eyes followed the movement.

 

“Good enough to be rewarded,” he went on, taking his time as he rolled up each of the sleeves of his shirt. Yuri started to tremble.

 

“Now let’s see if you can keep on behaving…”

 

And he sank his mouth down onto Yuri’s cock.

 

“Beka!”

 

The cry was broken, needy, reaching down into Otabek and unspooling all of the things he’d kept inside for three years. So Otabek sucked, relished the taste of Yuri in his mouth, hands on those sharp little hipbones, ignoring his own straining dick for the sake of pleasing his kitten. The weight on his tongue, the stretch of his lips, the way Yuri’s hips rolled slightly to match the rhythm of Otabek’s mouth, it was all so damn hot. Otabek groaned unashamedly, pulling back and sinking down repeatedly, making Yuri’s back arch.

 

One of Yuri’s hands had found it’s way to Otabek’s hair, and he was tugging slightly, trying to get the words out to stop him.

 

“Please, Beka,” Yuri begged, hand shaking where it gripped Otabek’s hair. “Daddy… please…”

 

Otabek released Yuri’s cock, letting it fall to his stomach, swollen and throbbing. He reached for the side table, feeling Yuri’s hand smooth over his side as he came within touching range. Otabek flashed a little smile at him. Yuri blinked hazily up at him, his own lazy smile cracked across his lips. Fuck, he was beautiful.

 

Yuri tucked a couple of pillows beneath his hips as Otabek found the lube. It wasn’t a new bottle, but only because Otabek had used it on himself. He’d tried dating in the last three years,  but every time he came close to sealing the deal, a pair of bright green eyes and a tinkling laugh would flash across his mind. He realised at this point he probably needed to ask. For protection’s sake.

 

Otabek paused as he went to kneel back between Yuri’s legs. Yuri gazed at him, expectant. His heart lept.

 

“I haven’t been with anyone else,” Otabek stated, his voice quiet as he made his confession. “I tried dating but it never felt right, so… so I’m clean.”

 

Yuri blinked at him, the focus back in his eyes as he adjusted to the shift in conversation, his cock starting to soften. There was a moment of silence.

 

“I have,” Yuri whispered, pain breaking across his face as he admitted it. “I’m clean also, but… I have.”

 

Otabek swallowed. He knew he had no right to be upset, they’d not been together afterall. But the thought of someone else’s hands on Yuri made him want to break something. Preferably the nose of whoever it was.

 

“Beka,” Yuri said, his voice gentle, slightly pleading as he sat up and took Otabek’s face between his hands, making him meet Yuri’s eyes. “Please believe me when I say that it didn’t mean anything. To be honest I was trying to scrub you from my mind, bury the pain in fucking. It didn’t work obviously, so I stopped after a while. Stopped hurting myself and allowing myself to be used. The pain of you got more bearable after a while, but it was always a sort of dull ache in my chest.”

 

Otabek’s heart squeezed sharply.

 

“Same,” he sighed, leaning into Yuri’s touch, turning to place a kiss on the inside of Yuri’s wrist. “It never went away.”

 

Yuri gave him a sad little smile, stroking Otabek’s jaw.

 

“It doesn’t have to hurt anymore,” he said, thumb smoothing over Otabek’s cheekbone. “We can make it stop. We can —”

 

“Yes,” Otabek cut him off, so relieved that he couldn’t wait. “Yes, let’s try again. Come back to me, Yura.”

 

“Always,” Yuri promised, his smile curling into something truly happy.

 

They kissed, slow and soft, six years of love behind their lips along with three years of heartbreak. Then Otabek was pushing Yuri back down to the mattress, slipping down his body again, settling between his legs. He poured lube out onto his fingers. He could feel Yuri’s hungry gaze on him.

 

Otabek slipped his hand between Yuri’s cheeks, felt his entrance tighten slightly as he placed a finger against it. Otabek allowed a small smile at the slight sign of nerves. He lowered himself to lick along Yuri’s length, bringing him back to full hardness, lowering his lips around him to relax Yuri’s muscles. Then he pushed in.

 

“Oh… God…” Yuri choked out, sounding strangled as Otabek’s finger slid in.

 

Fuck, he’d missed this heat, the feeling of Yuri clenching around his finger, needy for him. He kept his mouth still for a moment, just sucking gently without moving up and down, enjoying just having the throb of Yuri on his tongue. His finger however, that he fucked into Yuri slowly.

 

It didn’t take long for Yuri to beg for more, and when Otabek added a second, Yuri knew what was coming.

 

“Fuck!” Yuri swore, as Otabek crooked the two fingers inside him, giving the blonde a wave of pleasure before he started to stretch his finger gently apart. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

 

Yuri continued to jabber away, Russian curses mixed in with English, his drifting mind plucking his favourites out of the flow of his pleasure. By the third finger, Yuri’s words had turned desperate.

 

“Please, Beka, Daddy… _please…_ ”

 

And because Otabek had only ever been able to refuse him two things, he slipped his fingers out. Yuri watched, breathing laboured as Otabek sat up and reached under him to slip his shoes off. Next came his belt, the clink of it delightfully loud in the half lit room. His trousers went along with his socks, and Yuri sat up to help him undo his shirt. Otabek stopped him before he slipped it off his shoulders, instead removing the black shirt still hanging off Yuri.

 

His hands traced over Yuri’s newly exposed shoulders, making the younger man shiver at his touch. He’d always loved how elegant Yuri’s body was, narrow where Otabek was broad, pale where he was dark. Like some sort of fae creature, slipped down to earth from a kingdom tucked behind the moon, skin made of starlight and hair spun from comets.

 

Yuri too, seemed to be remembering all the things he loved about Otabek’s body. His hand trailed down the Kazakh’s chest where his shirt hung open, making Otabek’s muscles jump in response.

 

“Fuck, I’ve missed this,” Yuri whispered, eyes following his hand, mouth repeating a sentiment they both had thought many times already. “You’ve always been like some kind of Grecian god, for fuck’s sake.”

 

Otabek laughed.

 

“I think that’s probably an exaggeration,” he murmured, watching Yuri watch him.

 

“Nuh uh,” Yuri protested, shaking his head slowly, looking slightly dazed. “Your body’s fucking ridiculous, Beka, and I’m going to need you to slam it into me repeatedly and immediately.”

 

It was so good to have Yuri make him laugh again.

 

Otabek eased his boxers off, making Yuri sigh at the sight of him, but he kept the shirt on. He had a sneaking suspicion that Yuri might like it.

 

Then Yuri was hurriedly slipping his rings off, snatching the bottle of lube off Otabek so he could slick Otabek’s cock up himself. Otabek sighed, thrusting slightly into Yuri’s hand. Yuri’s brow was furrowed, eyes trained on the thick cock slipping between his fingers.

 

“It’s still fucking monstrous,” he muttered, making the Kazakh snort.

 

“Give it to me,” Yuri demanded, his gaze flashing up to meet Otabek’s as he lay back against the pillow.

 

“Gladly,” Otabek complied, leaning forward to sink a hand into the mattress next to Yuri’s shoulder.

 

With the other he guided his cock to rest against Yuri’s entrance. Then he looked up to search Yuri’s face. The blonde looked calm, happy and expectant, waiting for Otabek.

 

“Kiss me,” he asked for the second time that night, a request only meant for whispers.

 

And of course Otabek did, his lips meeting Yuri’s and then a moment later his cock sliding into him. The feeling was incomparable.

 

“Aha… ah...” Yuri whimpered into the kiss, and Otabek moved back a couple of inches to study his face, the screwed shut eyes, the open mouth.

 

“You okay?” he asked, his hand coming up to stroke Yuri’s hair back from his face.

 

Yuri nodded furiously, his eyes still shut.

 

“It feels good,” he said, breathless. “Keep going.”

 

So Otabek did, sinking forward into his heat, relishing it, forcing himself not to pound into it with everything he had. Yuri was mewling, Otabek’s shirt rucked under his hands where they clutched at his shoulders. Gently, carefully, Otabek started to thrust. Yuri’s eyes rolled back.

 

“Yura…” Otabek groaned, his head falling forward to rest in the crook of Yuri’s neck.

 

He could feel his slow, sweeping thrusts punching the air out of Yuri’s lungs, each of them making the younger man keen deliciously, short nails scrabbling at Otabek’s back through his shirt.

 

Otabek couldn’t help but move back to look at him, to study each expression as it passed over Yuri’s face, each one needier than the last.

 

“Look at me, kitten,” Otabek whispered, brushing his fingertips down Yuri’s hairline.

 

Yuri opened his eyes, struggled to keep them that way as Otabek drove deeper, made Yuri’s whole body shift with each slow, powerful thrust of his hips.

 

“Beka…” Yuri pleaded, for what Otabek wasn’t sure, but he’d be damned if he didn’t find a way to give it to him.

 

Yuri’s hand loosened its grip on the pillow, turning to open like a flower desperate to be plucked. And of course Otabek understood, took the hand in his and held it. The movement changed the angle slightly and then —

 

“Ah!” Yuri cried, head thrown back as he lost himself to the feeling. “Ah, Beka... right there, oh god, oh fuck.”

 

Otabek took a breath, needing oxygen to fill him so the insanity didn’t. Then he started to really, truly, fuck Yuri.

 

They were both moaning as Otabek drove Yuri deeper into the mattress, Yuri’s thighs clamping down on Otabek’s sides as he was pounded into. After a little while of furious thrusting at that angle, getting them both so close Otabek had to bite his lip, the Kazakh wrapped his arms around Yuri and changed their position.

 

He sat back, pulling Yuri with him as the blonde automatically placed his feet firmly on the bed to give him leverage. Even so, it was mostly Otabek lifting him rather than Yuri pushing, the younger too far gone to control his body. He made Yuri keen as he lifted and slammed him back down repeatedly, Yuri’s arms flung over his shoulders and his blonde head thrown back. Otabek seized the opportunity to latch his mouth onto the exposed neck, his muscles bunching as the blonde bounced in his lap.

 

“Ah, Beka… Beka, I’m close,” Yuri whined, words slurred from his pleasure.

 

“Yes, kitten,” Otabek murmured against his throat. “Come for me, touch yourself.”

 

Yuri moaned at the demand, his muscles working just enough for his hand to find his cock. Otabek could feel his own release building as Yuri’s did, the younger’s body clenching desperately around him as his climax neared.

 

“Beka, Beka, Beka,” Yuri was whining repeatedly, his hand stroking himself, slick with precum as his head snapped up from where it had been hanging back. “Beka, Beka, yes, yes, _yes!”_

 

And Yuri came, painting his release across his own chest, his load dripping down to where their bodies were slaming together. Otabek groaned, gripping Yuri’s hips in a bruising hold as he too came apart. He couldn’t even make any sound as they rode it out, Yuri’s hand still working himself in his oversensitive state, making him twitch and clench around Otabek in a way that made the elder feel as though his orgasm would go on forever.

 

But they did eventually slow. Yuri finally settled in Otabek’s lap and their mouth met in a sloppy exchange of tongues. Then Otabek was leaning forward, spilling Yuri back onto the mattress in a pool of blonde hair and loose limbs, sliding out of him as he did.

 

Yuri’s eyes were closed as Otabek moved to get up, but he still made half hearted attempts at grabbing the other to keep him there. Otabek smiled and shushed him, murmured that he’d be right back. He hurried to his en suite, clicking the light on over the mirror.

 

He paused as he caught sight of his reflection. His hair was mussed, his open shirt rumpled and his cheeks flushed. But it was his eyes that got him. They sparkled with a kind of hesitant, eager happiness, fragile in its hope. It had been years since he’d looked like that.

 

Otabek looked away from his image, smiling as he ducked to grab a flannel from under the sink before wetting it. Then he returned to his bedroom.

 

Yuri still hadn’t opened his eyes. Apparently the Russian was unable to do anything but lay there, perfectly exposed and sated. He didn’t react when the mattress dipped with Otabek’s weight, but he giggled when Otabek wiped at him with the cold washcloth, his nose scrunching up adorably at the sensation. His eyes snapped open and Otabek returned his smile, gently cleaning his stomach, his thighs, between his legs.

 

Then he gave himself a quick once over, tearing off the wrinkled shirt and tossing it and the flannel back in the general direction of the bathroom. Yuri giggled again at the wet slap the flannel made. Otabek grabbed him as he lay down, pulling him close to tuck him under his arm, Yuri’s head on his chest.

 

Yuri immediately started to draw patterns over Otabek’s heart, a habit picked up again easily after three years. It was bliss.

 

They lay there for a while, catching their breath, enjoying the afterglow. Then, when Otabek felt like he could, he spoke.

 

“Do you remember our first time?” Otabek asked the ceiling, stroking his fingers through Yuri’s hair.

 

Yuri snorted.

 

“Of course,” he said, voice slightly distorted from where his face was smushed against Otabek’s chest. “Would’ve been a shitty first time if it was easy to forget.”

 

“And shitty it certainly was not,” Otabek chuckled, relishing the responding smile he felt of Yuri’s, curved against his skin.

 

“No, sir,” Yuri agreed. “It was not.”

 

Yuri had been the one to initiate it of course, as with everything. It wasn’t that Otabek didn’t want to push things, but he’d always been very aware of his position as the elder, never wanting to take advantage or make Yuri uncomfortable.

 

It had been Yuri who had kissed him the first time, sixteen years old and giving Otabek a look that dared him to object. And it had been Yuri who had begged Otabek to fuck him at eighteen. He’d asked before then of course, insisted that it was the normal thing for boyfriends to do. But Otabek had always refused, knowing Yuri to be too young for what he wanted, even if Otabek always treated him with the utmost respect and care. When he’d asked again at eighteen, Otabek found he no longer had an excuse.

 

“You were beautiful,” Otabek said in the present, eyes distant as he remembered. “So fierce and yet so cute, completely trusting me to look after you. I was so, _so_ gone.”

 

“Hmm…” Yuri hummed, shifting to lay his chin against Otabek’s chest so he could grin up at him. “I always did enjoy having you wrapped around my little finger.”

 

“Kitten, you have no idea,” Otabek agreed. “I'm still utterly helpless for you.”

 

That got him another smile.

 

“It was so weird whenever you refused me,” Yuri went on, his brow furrowing at the memory. “I’d ask you to go and get me a soda and off you’d pop. Ask you to hit someone and bam, they’d be out cold. But when I asked you to fuck me and you thought I was too young, you’d say no… because that was something you thought would hurt me. As if you ever could.”

 

Yuri was focused on dragging his fingers over Otabek’s chest, still drawing familiar little patterns on the skin there.

 

“And then when you refused to kill Denny with me…” Yuri continued, mouth twisted in displeasure. “It was like being slapped in the face. Of course I knew you were broken, Christ I was only just managing to keep you together, like trying to press my hands to the leaks in a cracked cup, but there were just too many of them.

 

“Even so, I really thought you would. Like all the other times I’d asked for something. But no, you refused. God, I threw the biggest tantrum.”

 

Otabek chuckled, relieved at the humour at the end of the retelling, the way it eased the weight of the memories. He was tempted to ask what killing Denny had been like, but knew he had no right to that information yet. Not when he'd refused to be a part of it.

 

“You certainly did,” Otabek agreed. “You’ve always been good at screaming and breaking things, but I truly thought you were going to go and blow up a car or something. My little firework.”

 

Yuri grinned at him, a tiger behind the smile.

 

“Sounds like something I would do,” Yuri laughed, sweeping his hair over to one side to stop it from falling into his face.

 

“You did a number on our apartment,” Otabek remembered, pursing his lips.

 

“Now _that_ , I am sorry about,” Yuri said, biting his lip, his eyes sliding away in guilt. “I loved that apartment. It’s the place I was happiest. Still is. I didn’t mean to break so many of our picture frames and gifts to each other, all the things that made it ours.”

 

“I think it was _because_ those things made it ours that they were the ones you chose to break,” Otabek said, shifting to run a thumb along Yuri’s bottom lip. “You were threatening me with the erasure of us. Trying to scrub us out before I could hurt you.”

 

“I think you’re right,” Yuri sighed, blinking sadly down at Otabek’s chest.

 

“It’s alright though,” Otabek soothed, brushing his knuckles lightly across Yuri’s cheek. “We can make a new home if you’d like to.”

 

Yuri looked up at him, and there was so much hope in his eyes.

 

“What just jump straight back in again?” he asked, a smirk tugging on his mouth. “Right where we left off from?”

 

“Maybe not, no,” Otabek allowed, rethinking his proposal. “We might need more time before that. But we could start with dates? Ease our way back in before we go all out with the apartment and three kids.”

 

Yuri laughed.

 

“Dates sound good,” Yuri agreed, moving to resettle his cheek against Otabek’s chest.

 

There was a few moments of silence, listening to each others breathing, relearning each others heat. And then —

 

“So stripping, huh?” Otabek teased.

 

Yuri’s head snapped back up to look at him. He was blushing, looking oddly sheepish about something. Otabek was sure it wasn’t the stripping that was making him look like that, Yuri wouldn’t care what anyone thought of him taking his clothes off for money.

 

“Not really,” he admitted. “I mean I did it for a bit, mostly for fun and to annoy Victor. But I haven’t actually worked at the bar for a while. It’s a pretty high end place, I can see why friends like yours chose it.

 

“But I’d just stopped by to say hello when they came in. I overheard them telling Celestino about how it was their friend’s birthday, how they needed a stripper for him. At first I thought it was an odd coincidence that whoever they were talking about shared a birthday with you. But then they mentioned your name.”

 

Yuri smiled to himself, shoulders hunching up as he remembered.

 

“I’m not really sure what I was thinking,” Yuri admitted, eyes sparkling with it. “I think it was mostly vindictive to be honest, just a “hey, you know what will really fuck Beka up? If I turned up on his birthday as a stripper and gave him a very fuck you sort of lap dance.””

 

Otabek laughed and Yuri joined him, their voices tripping along together.

 

“Well it certainly did fuck me up,” Otabek admitted. “It was very well executed.”

 

“I know,” Yuri said, grinning evilly. “You’re pretty good at hiding your emotions but I can always tell. You looked like you were going to faint.”

 

They laughed again. Otabek basked in the feeling; Yuri lying against his chest, sleepy and happy from sex, laughing together. All he’d ever wanted.

 

At that moment his phone went off.

 

“That’s the group chat,” he huffed, reaching over to the side table where he’d left his phone charging earlier that night. “I need to let them know I haven’t been stabbed and mugged by some stripper.”

 

Yuri laughed and smacked him lightly on the chest.

 

“Don’t stereotype strippers,” he scolded, but he was still grinning. “We’re a lovely and diverse bunch.”

 

“I’ll bet you are,” Otabek teased in return.

 

Yuri whacked his chest again, before settling back down against it. Otabek chuckled as he opened the group chat, giving the messages a quick scan.

 

_[Alexei] Hey Beka, where are you man?_

 

_[Zarina] Are you on your way Beks? Hurry up or we’ll all be smashed by the time you arrive_

 

_[Natalie] Yeah Beka, let the poor boy live_

 

_[Natalie] Unless he’s like, tied you up and stolen all your shit… oh fuck, please don’t be dead_

 

Otabek smirked as he read through the messages. His friends had absolutely no idea.

 

_[Beka] Hey guys_

 

_[Ravil] HE LIVES_

 

_[Alexei] Bless this day oh lord above, thank you baby Jesus for keeping a stripper from murdering our friend_

 

_[Beka] Yeah about that…_

 

_[Serik] Uh oh_

 

_[Beka] You guys do know that you set me up with my ex-boyfriend, right?_

 

_[Zarina] WHAT?_

 

_[Serik] OTABEK DATED A STRIPPER?_

 

_[Alexei] BEKA’S EX IS A STRIPPER?_

 

_[Beka] Well, he’s not really an ex anymore…_

 

_[Natalie] SWEET MOTHER OF GOD_

 

_[Alexei] I’m dead. I’m fucking deceased. Otabek Altin has murdered me. Me, his best friend._

 

_[Zarina] I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH THIS INFORMATION????!!!!_

 

_[Daniar] I was in the bathroom for like two minutes and I came back to everyone just losing their shit in the VIP area, what is going on? Everyone seems to have lost the ability to do anything but scream_

 

_[Ravil] Wait, wait, WAIT, so are you back together with him? Beka we need ANSWERS_

 

Otabek laughed and chucked his phone down on the mattress, ignoring the barrage of messages vibrating into the device. He wrapped Yuri up in his arms instead, nuzzling his face into the top of the younger man’s hair, breathing him in.

 

His friends would find out soon enough. He didn’t need to tell them everything right now. Otabek would have plenty of time to explain Yuri to them and introduce them to him. He did, afterall, intend to spend the rest of his life with the man.

 

And that’s exactly what he did.


End file.
